Gods
by Angelina FILTH
Summary: Schuldig's little squabble with Farfarello has displeasing results. Bradley is left to deal with it. Yaoi and non-yaoi fans alike will be pleased, I assure you. Please read and review!


All characters (c) the creators of Weiss Kreuz.  
  
Warnings: Death, adult themes I suppose. Light shounen-ai implied, if any.  
  
Author's note: I'm not exactly sure what this is. I just thought of a really cool ending one day, and so I wrote it down. Note, it is NOT finished.. and only will be if I can get some good ideas, and good reviews. So if you want more, let me know!  
  
``Gods``  
by Angelina FILTH  
  
There was blood all over the floor.  Puddles, little streams, splatters.  Farfarello grinned, kneeling in some of in it, patting his finger pads amongst the red coppery liquids.  His pink tongue darted out, licking his well defined lips slowly.  He peered up with his light yellow eye, glancing side to side as if cautious of being watched, and finally, over towards the limp body of his once comrade.  
  
``..I told ye,`` he said calmly, ``to watch out fer me.``  
  
Schuldig gave no answer.  
  
His eyes stared up at the ceiling, examining the wooden beams, and the cement that held it all together.  There was the hint of a beginning of a sigh, but a groan of pain after, followed by small staggered breaths.  
  
Farfarello stood, and calmly turned; he headed back towards his cell, and sat at the back, the shadows of the bars silhouetting over his albino-white form.  He peered with the single golden eye out, and it shown like a cat's.  
  
Crawford knew.  He could do nothing, and he knew.  Slowly, he rose from his desk, calmly exiting his office, calmly scaling the halls, calmly walking down the steps that led to the basement.  As Farfarello was calm, he was twice that.  He had finally made it to there, where he saw the German's fallen form.. and the Irishman at the back of his cell, sitting, waiting, watching.  As if to strike again.  
  
Once at the bottom of the steps, Bradley closed his eyes, and simply said: ``You told him to watch out.``  
  
``Aye.``  
  
And they opened.  
  
He peered over towards the bloody mess that was the redhead.  Cuts, bruises, open wounds, covered his body.  His clothes were ripped and his hair was matted.  A scrabble with Farfarello proved to be more than a simple telepath could handle.  There was nothing left to say, nothing left to do.  
  
Bradley made his way over, and knelt, peering in his odd, blank way that he always did.  The golden eye of Farfarello shut, and Crawford reached down, slipping a hand under Schuldig's back, and the other behind his neck.  He pulled him up gently, so he would be almost sitting up, leaning him against him, he spoke quietly.  
  
``You are so foolish, you know that?``  
  
``I know.``  
  
Schuldig's dark blue eyes lifted, and he executed a cough, caused by a small tickle in his throat. ``You know what else, Bradley..``  
  
``It's Crawford,`` he muttered curtly.  His face was cold, cold as stone.  As it always was.  He did not stare down towards the younger, but blankly ahead, off into the void space.  Gray cement walls were so interesting these days.  
  
The orange haired German managed to force a weak smile on his face; blood slid down from the corner of his mouth, across the side of his cheek.  He choked out, softly: ``I've been thinkin'.. and I think.. I think we're gods.``  He paused a moment, ``We're gods.. 's why we're hated.  'S why this happened the way it did, today.``  
  
And the one with the glasses' eyes widened momentarily at this, but not much, and he found himself caught in a staring contest with the wall for many moments.  Many moments, through the silence, after the German accented words.. there was nothing, no sound at all, from him.  The only noise was the heavy breathing of Schuldig; it was getting harder and harder for him to do such an easy, everyday task.  Liquid filled his lungs.  
  
He coughed and said almost desperately, ``Crawford.``  His body relaxed slowly in the American's arms, muscle after muscle slowly untightening, as the waves of blackness came out from the corners of his eyes, and softly, they shut for the last time.  
  
Bradley finally answered, but he did not look down.  
  
``Yes, Schuldig.  We are gods.  That's why everyone.. including ourselves.. hates us.`` 


End file.
